Invader Gaz
by Cooldragon1990
Summary: Invader Gazlene, protégé of Tallest Miyuki and personal friend of the Tallests Red and Purple, is assigned to conquer planet Earth. The task turns out to be more difficult than she first thought as two brothers, Dib and Zim, are committed to foiling her plans and protecting their planet. AU Gazlene is an Invader, not Zim obviously! Rated T for violence and minor cussing.
1. The Nightmare Begins (1)

**It has been ages Fanfiction and this is also my first story for Invader Zim. I hope I actually do a good job. Now a few important notes before this first chapter. This is not a direct crossover to the show. While, yes, this first episode is pretty close, Gazlene (later called Gaz, don't worry) is pretty much smarter than Zim was, and some changes need to happen. That means episodes like Dark Harvest, Bad Bad Rubber Piggy, or any episode where Zim had a far fetched scheme won't exist and if any episodes do share the same name, they will either be changed, or have an original twist.**

 **Have an idea or suggestion for Gaz, then feel free to share. I could use all the suggestions and ideas I could get. I have absolutely no shame admitting that! Special thanks and kudos go to 3D Phantom for betaing.**

 **Lust and Gluttony from Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood as well as Xenomorph and Predator may show up but no knowledge of fandoms involved are required, and it is not technically in a crossover way and they aren't fully themselves... more on that later. I do not own these things. They belong to their rightful owners and copyright. They also don't show up specifically in this chapter or episode.**

 **Let me know how I did by leaving constructive criticism or whatever. I could always hear how I did or need to improve on.**

If it was any other day but today, Conventia, the aptly named convention hall planet, would have been empty, or rather, at the very least less crowded. But, given that today marked the start of the Great Assigning, the planet was effectively overcrowded. It was, in fact, so overcrowded that Irkens unaware of where they were (or who had poor navigational skills) would find themselves plummeting to their certain doom, left for the cruel, merciless grip of space to play with like a whiny, bratty smeet.

"Welcome, brave Irken soldiers. Welcome to Conventia, the convention hall planet. Please, proceed to the docking ring and take the complimentary teleporters to the planet's surface!"

The over-the-top announcement told Irkens where they were, and provided useless exposition. Faceless nobodies crowded around and the occasional color of pupils stared ahead with the mindless, goal-focused purpose of finding the stage.

The messages were theoretically useless, seeing as Irkens prided themselves on knowing where to go, and the only purpose the big flashy lights served was to reflect the leaders: The Almighty Tallest; the head-figures that all Irkens strived to be like.

Lights flashed and soundless chatter accompanied the trek to the stage. Soundless, so that the hopeful Elite could hear how proud their leaders were (if they were "tall," that is: Height played a factor on most privileges; the taller they were, the better their station) of them and, depending on test results and height, a planet would be assigned for them to conquer.

After around five minutes of synchronized marching the Irken hoard finally arrived at their destination and proceeded to dramatically cease all movement, standing perfectly still at attention. None of them looked for a space to sit, seeing as it would be useless anyway. There were never any chairs outside of the training facilities for smeets, and even then chairs were of limited supply and only allowed in certain areas: Chairs were said to lessen the Irken resolve and make them weak. A weak Irken was a dead Irken to the masses, and a dead Irken was useless in the grand design of conquering the universe, thus chairs were neither a necessity nor a granted luxury to the average Irken. The more rebellious amongst the empire's lower classes referred to this displeasure as "a small inconvenience," and never were they willing to call it anything more. Everyone was forced to stand without complaint, or else risk the displeasure of getting their PAK wiped for disobedience.

A lone Irken female stood next to a rather plump-looking soldier. Her eyes were glued to the screen and a soft drink of indeterminate origin was carried in her PAK. Her purple irises were focused adamantly on her gaming console; the Game Slave Advance! It was the pride of the gaming culture on Irk, capable of hacking into computer mainframes and building structures, and many smeets that somehow got their antennas on the cutting edge advancement of gaming technology used its hacking capabilities to an undesirable extent. Teaching drones complained to parental units so much that smeets were told not to hack unless during designated times; if they disobeyed, they risked being charged with defection. There was a time and a place for leisure, and it often had its purpose during important strategy sessions or battle simulations, but using the technology out of place could result in disastrous effects for the young smeets.

But this female Irken was no longer a smeet. She was roughly 5 feet tall, Taller than the standard height of the average Irken, but not tall enough to be considered a Tallest or future Tallest. Her antennae were bent forward, toward the direction of the stage, as if on watch for details while her primary focus was on whatever she was currently playing. If anyone outside of the Tallest were to disrupt her or shatter her intense focus as she absorbed the game, they would be on a one-way trip into a nightmare realm from which there was no returning.

A small necklace of the Irken Symbol contorted into a skull hung around her neck in a grotesque but ultimately cool way. It was rumored by the paranoid delusionists that this necklace was capable of killing those that irked her, but no one could be reached for comment on that matter, and she was perfectly content on letting rumor and rampant paranoia run their course. It benefited her in the long run.

She had been here roughly three hours earlier than the others to get a good position closer to the stage.

"Why do we have to stand? I swear, we should at least be able to sit. It would be easier to cheer from a sitting position. This sucks!"

"Whiner."

"Who said that? I will make you rue the day you messed with Tim! Mighty Irken Invader Tim shall be feared, for there is nothing scarier than an Irken named Tim!"

"Will you shut up? You're messing up my game, and you sound like such a whiner. Standing builds character, which you sorely lack!"

A gasp and an intake of air were Tim's response to the gaming Irken in front of him. She went back to playing her game.

"Gazlene, I didn't see you there. Sorry for bothering you. Tim shall be quiet now for he knows when he is an annoyance. Of course..." Tim continued to speak.

Gazlene growled in annoyance and a spiderleg shot out of her PAK, grabbing him and lifting his short self off of the ground. Lavender irises glared at him. Tim felt fear grip him in his Squeedlyspooch, making his vision darken dangerously. Though, in his limited frame of thought, this could have just been because he was being strangled.

"Your voice is annoying! Fix it!" Gazlene threatened, quietly glaring in hellish fury at the unfortunate Tim.

Tim pantomimed zipping something and pleaded for his inferior life, hoping that the scary female before him would be gone from his life.

Before Gazlene could ultimately throttle him for senseless whining, a loud announcement came on from somewhere.

"Now, wiggle your antennae in salute, because here they are! Your all-knowing, all-powerful leaders, the Almighty Tallest!"

It was this fortunate interruption that perhaps saved Tim's life: Or, rather, Gazlene grew bored of strangling the useless waste of space and potential that was wrapped into the enigma known as Tim... Gazlene glared passionately at Tim before ultimately dropping him harmlessly back onto the ground. Well, harmlessly wasn't entirely accurate; it was more like "roughly throwing him needlessly violently to the ground". In Gazlene's mind, the short Irken needed to build up a tolerance to pain; he was far too much of a whiner… Gazlene looked up at the stage, where the show was just beginning to unfold.

A disc-shaped platform lowered slowly and dramatically revealed mist; fog blew from invisible machines for a nice dramatic effect. Erratic lasers were dancing wildly in the air like rabid fanboys at a convention. Red held out his clawed fingers in greeting while purple stood off to the side, munching happily on donuts.

"Welcome, mighty Irken soldiers! You are gathered here today to be judged harshly and critically. Everything you do, every twitch and spasm, will be judged, and your pitiful existence will be shaped and molded into something that hopefully will somewhat resemble an Invader! Every test you've ever taken and all of the choices you have made have been leading up to this moment!"

Red concluded his inspirational speech by holding his hands up in triumph, as if he was congratulating himself for his speech instead of exciting dozens of mindless drones on the verge of conquest.

"So. give yourselves a celebratory waggle of antennae and I am going to stick this delicious donut into my mouth," Purple finally spoke up before proceeding to do just as he'd promised, stuffing not one, but several donuts into his mouth until he was on the verge of choking. Red glared at him for contributing pointlessly and stealing his spotlight, even if only for a moment.

Exuberant cheers exploded violently in the vicinity, and because they were all in one area with little echo suppression technology, several unlucky Irkens broke off their mindless cheer to scream in pain as their antennae burst, sending them crashing to the floor. Luckily, their PAKs could shock them back into consciousness...

Purple continued speaking now that he was on what he considered to be "a role."

"Yes, but before we get to the main event, which you are no doubt ecstatic for, I think it'd be right to remind those that are watching from home what exactly we are going to do here today."

Red glared harder; his cohort was always stealing his spotlight and derailing his plans! "What are you talking about? This isn't being televised!"

Purple shoved another donut into his mouth and sipped on a soda, as if that was a comfort from miscommunication. "It isn't? I thought it was. Huh, I guess I was wrong. Holy Irk, these donuts are good! Where did we get these again?"

"That's not important! Anyway, as my co-council said, we are here to determine where all of you are going to go. You will step up when we read your name randomly, and will wait patiently as we determine your worth. Based on that, we will assign you a wondrous, oblivious, doomed planet for you to enslave by using your no-doubt basic training. After that, we can only hope that you don't become an embarrassment to us all."

"That sounds intense! Also off script. You're supposed to read from the teleprompter! You always do this," Purple scolded.

"Again, there is no teleprompter. What is wrong with you today? Is something in those donuts? Do I have to pay a visit to wherever it is you bought them from and demand that they stop putting those so-called ' _vision enhancement substances'_ in them... again...?"

This back and forth, no doubt amusing banter was grating and annoying to Gazlene, but she ignored it for increased focus on her game. After some more pointless exposition and bad jokes (mainly on Purple's part) the Tallest were ready to begin the next phase of the Great Assigning.

"Invader Larb, step on down! You have been chosen to be judged! How exciting!"

Invader Larb ran forward to await his fate. The anticipation was strong with this one! Soon he was in front of the Tallest and they glanced down disinterestedly.

"Congratulations Invader Larb, you have been selected for the Planet Blorch: Home of the Slaughtering Rat People. These charming individuals are known to rip the flesh off unsuspecting prey and feed off whatever is inside until nothing is left!"

The newly promoted Invader Larb stood with a horrified expression on his face. His eyes were wide and he looked as if he was going to bolt. Loyalty to the mission and the chance to prove himself were the only reasons he managed to quench his desire to flee.

"...Is what we would have said, had you not grown taller in the last ten seconds," Tallest Purple said, startling Invader Larb and leading him to stare up with wide eyes, once again feeling his excitement return and hope re-fill him. "Since you have grown taller, instead..." Purple gestured proudly to a random location on the giant map behind them, "you will be traveling to Planet Vort: Home of the World's Comfiest Couch. Careful, though, this couch has been known to be so unbelievably comfortable that it has melted the will of any who sat on it, making them unwilling to move. It doesn't even have a drink holder!"

A gasp shattered the silence and Purple nodded importantly. "I know, how absolutely horrible! But you can't change your mind; Invaders such as yourselves have the eternal eye of the Massive and us, your loving leaders, the Tallest, to watch and judge you harshly for this mission. Now move on and go away!"

Red took over for Purple, who decided that he would much rather chew another donut than continue with calling out victims-eh… new recruits... for planetary invasion.

"Invader Skoodge, you have been selected as an Invader, so hurry up and get down here!" Red paused and waited as Skoodge trudged slowly to the stage. "Now this is just sad. You made no progress on height and are just as short as ever! You will be assigned to Planet Blorch: Home of the Slaughtering Rat People."

"Do we really have to add the 'Slaughtering Rat People' bit every time we speak of Planet Blorch?" Purple interrupted rudely. "It seems kind of long-winded and wordy."

Red thought about it, decided, and then answered, "Yes we do; how else will Irken conquerors take this seriously? Blorch doesn't sound all that threatening under normal circumstances." Turning back to Skoodge, he said, "You go wait over there, and try not to stupefy the other Invaders with your incompetence!"

Skoodge wilted dejectedly as he stared up at the Tallest in shame, no doubt wishing he was a few feet taller.

"Okay, this recently graduated Invader is next. She has risen, figuratively and literally, through the ranks. She has also recently fought the dreaded Trials of Doom on Hobo 13 and passed!"

A sharp intake of breath cut around the gathered Irkens. How could anyone pass the Trials of Hobo 13? The Trials of Hobo 13 were increasingly brutal, unforgiving, and relentless. To think that one of their own would pass, and apparently so easily, was almost impossible.

"Hobo 13 is of course not normally a test we give out normally, but it was requested of us, and so we allowed her to partake in the trials. She even managed to get her assigned team through with only a few minor injuries, mostly on her part."

The whispers increased in volume. It was rare for an Irken to succeed in the trials with their team intact: Hence why not a lot of Irkens passed.

"Invader Gazlene, step on down." Purple had barely gotten his words out and had blinked once before the Irken was standing in front of them, her video game nowhere to be seen as she sneered at him.

A hushed silence spread throughout the room, a quietness so vast and so violent that several Irkens temporarily went deaf...

Red took over for his stunned cohort. "Yes, it is very awe-inspiring how this simple Irken could rise up in the ranks so quickly and effectively. Just look at her, all tall and... stuff... That is, I mean to say that she is, I believe, a bright beacon of hope to us all. You should all try to be more like her!"

Gazlene allowed a small smirk, and then went back to her sneer. Purple's eyes were wide in suppressed horror, donut froze in midair, never to be shoved into his face.

"Unfortunately, we don't have a proper planet for you to doom. But, in our sweep, a planet showed up on our scanners."

Gazlene sighed irritably. "What is it? How far is it?" Her limited patience was running out, and unfortunately for Red, it wasn't directed fully at him.

"Nobody knows." He turned around, looking at the map behind him. A small sticky note with a simple sketch of a planet with a question mark upon it was stuck to the very farthest reaches of the vast map before them. Red walked over and pointed to the little sticky note. "It is so mysterious, it doesn't even show up on our scanners of basic planet names! All we know for sure is that it is there, we believe there is life on it, and we know nothing else! Is that... acceptable...?"

For a long time, (seemingly several hours, but in reality only two minutes at best) Gazlene glared at the floor as if it had personally wronged her somehow. Bits of the paint warped and twisted as if it was being scorched alive, which was impossible, seeing as it was a floor and thus could feel no pain...

Finally, she spoke. "Fine, but there better be a planet there!" Purple shivered at the implied threat, donut still hovering in the air near his mouth hole. It hadn't moved, and therefore, it wasn't going to move anytime soon.

"We're sure there is, we just don't know its named: Not that it matters! With your luck, it will probably be a breeze conquering it!"

This time, Gazlene did smirk fully at Red's compliment. She had been complimented by her Tallest. She felt honored and, knew then and there that no matter what she wouldn't fail. Whatever that planet was, it was _doomed_.


	2. The Nightmare Begins (2)

_*** Meanwhile ***_

"We're sure there is, we just don't know its named: Not that it matters! With your luck, it will probably be a breeze conquering it… conquering it…conquering it…."

The last transmission echoed, faded, and cackled down to silence. A young boy gulped as he heard that tail-end of the transmission. For the last seven hours, he had been trying to get a connection, trying to listen in to the vast reaches of space, trying to finally find proof of alien life! For that goal he had been sitting there, on the roof, for hours, knowing that it was the only place compatible with his Intergalactic Listening Device©! But it had been worth the wait because now, he'd finally heard it! The proof that he needed, at long last, was his!

He couldn't understand why they were speaking English, or why aliens, in general, spoke in English, but that didn't matter to him! He finally had proof of alien life!

Although, he could have accidentally picked up on Ol' Miss Tracheae again as she rambled and raved to empty space... he had regretted this sort of mix-up before, and because of it spent several hours in the bathroom making personal friends with the porcelain throne… Dad hadn't been pleased with him… but this time had to be different! They were talking about the _conquest_ of _worlds!_ So it just _had_ to be real!

In his excitement, the boy named Dib threw off his headphones and, in his haste, almost fell off the roof for not the first time that day, but he didn't stop to dwell on it. He had only one thought on his mind…

He had to tell Dad and Zim as soon as possible!

Zim threw open the door to the glorious fridge; he glared menacingly inside at the hapless fruits and assorted foods that Dib had cooked. Some were edible, while others would have given Zim food poisoning had he eaten them. But Zim didn't care, because Zim was not looking for nourishment. Instead he was looking for...

"NO! DIB HAS DRUNK ALL OF THE POOP! Curse you foul demon known as Dib! You will rue the day you drunk all of Zim's delicious Poop!" Zim's eyes bulged out of his head as he spotted... "Oh, one last can was hiding vainly from Zim behind the milk. It is not Dib who has Zim's wrath now, but it is now the cows that shall have Zim's eternal wrath!"

He cracked open the can and began sipping happily from it. Suddenly, he heard a ' _thump'_ sound on the roof and Dib screaming in pain, probably from jumping too hard off the roof and mistiming his jump again. Soon enough, Dib came barreling into the kitchen. Zim stood by as Dib first went up to their father (who happened to be in the room: Zim had been too focused on Poop soda to actually notice that at first. This was one of the few times that Dad, or Professor Membrane as the world knew him, was home, so they had to soak up as much time with him as possible) and started babbling.

"Dad, here it is! Proof of alien existence…!" Before Dib could get much further than that, he was interrupted:

"Not now son, the world is counting on me to make TOAST! With a balanced toasty breakfast, we will put a stop to hungry people everywhere…! And it will get me started on the day."

Dib looked out the window as Zim continued sipping his Poop in interest. "But Dad, it's night time! It isn't the start of the day at all!"

Professor Membrane jumped and stared out of the window as well. "Ah, so it is. You go and play with Zim while I make the finishing touches on this toast. Soon, households everywhere will have toast, and anywhere I go I will be famous!"

"But you are already famous." Dib sighed dejectedly at being ignored once again by the professor, sometimes referred to by him as "Dad".

But Membrane said nothing and continued working on the aforementioned toast, leaving Zim to cheer Dib up.

"So it worked? You mean to tell me that you were able to get a connection?" Dib cheered up instantly when he realized Zim was in the room as well, completely unaware that he had almost gotten a week's worth of scorn from Zim because of a defiant milk carton hiding Poop from him...

"Yeah, I was able to hack into their channels and listen in on some kind of ceremony. I couldn't actually hear names, but it sounded really important, and aliens really do exist! I'm not crazy, Zim! I was right!"

"Good; I will have Gir try to increase the frequency so we can actually pinpoint a location. We will need proof of this, after all." A crash in the living room interrupted Zim from speaking any more words of encouragement. "Hmm, well, I am going to have to depart now. Gir is trouble, and Zim does not want to be blamed again for the mess of an annoying robot, so I really must look after him."

Dib rolled his eyes at Zim's fancy name for what was supposed to be a pet. "Why do you call him that? Who names their pet Gir?"

"I do, Dib! I do! Now, Gir is banging his head against a lamp, so I really must go!" Zim ran off to prevent the malfunctioning robot from destroying the house.

"What are you?" Dib shouted at the ceiling once Zim had gone. "And why do I always talk to myself when I'm alone?" There was, of course, no answer from the ceiling.

"This is your Standard-Issue Information Retrieval Unit, also known as a SIR. It will assist you in gathering valuable knowledge during your mission." ...Purple had finally recovered from his shock. It was common knowledge that Gazlene scared all who came into contact with her, but he especially was more traumatized by her, freezing up at the oddest of times; it almost always happened to him while he was around her.

Gazlene stood off to the side, video game in her claws once more. She wasn't with Skoodge and Larb; rather, she was standing next to Red, awaiting her next orders. As soon as her ceremony had completed, he had taken her aside. " _I would like you to wait off to the side, next to me, while we get the other Invaders situated. You will be given a specially modified SIR and vehicle, but it has to be done later, after the others have their equipment."_

So here she was, in a position most would kill for. She was almost at the boss level when Purple interrupted her concentration.

"Who wants this one?" He held it threateningly in his grasp and held it poised, ready to throw.

Gazlene paused from her video game and spared a glance of interest at Purple. He, unfortunately, caught her glance, yelled internally, and threw the unfortunate SIR at a random Irken, his aim off spectacularly.

A scream of pain and a thud were heard, followed by silence. "Hey, you know, I am okay! Ha, I laugh at the taste of pain. Ohh, never mind, it was delayed." Gazlene smirked and went back to her game, taking it out of pause.

"Congratulations Larb on your new SIR. You can take it to the garage. May your enemies crumble!" Larb nodded, grabbing the unmoving, lifeless SIR and running as fast as his feet could scurry.

"This concludes the Great Assigning. For those of you not selected, try harder! It is important to work smarter AND harder, and if you do, maybe you will be chosen in twenty years."

Cheering exploded throughout the room, causing Gazlene to wince a bit, and her player avatar suffered a bit from this negligence. After the cheering died down and the room emptied, the Tallest sighed at the empty room, pleased that there was no longer anyone there.

"That was annoying! It seems every two decades it gets worse and worse. I'm beat." Red and Gaz growled in annoyance at Purple's comment, but otherwise ignored him.

"So what was it you wanted to discuss with me, my Tallest?" Gazlene inquired in interest. She stored her game back into her PAK, since she wasn't bored anymore.

Purple, who was inclined to stay as far away from Gazlene as he could, didn't volunteer any information, but Red wasn't so disinclined.

"I'll get to that, but first, Gazlene, it is no secret that you are one of the best soldiers we have. There's a reason we let you take the Trials of Hobo 13. We felt you were ready to take an advanced course that not many Invaders, or even other races, take. Sargent Hobo 678 was practically salivating at your skill!"

Gazlene never interrupted, but her expression of bored-interest remained. She knew all of this already, particularly because 678 was rarely silent about her skill, and never stopped talking about it. The Sergeant was proud to have experienced such tremendous leadership and tactical strategy. Gazlene didn't care though; It had all been too easy in her mind.

"Be that as it is, we have decided to gift to you a very special, modified SIR unit, and gift you a Spittle Runner. Your height also has a lot to do with this as well, and none of the other Invaders have modified goodies such as these. If they want toys like these, they'll have to build them themselves! The Control Brains were the ones to authorize this, but we would have done this anyway, even if they had not already authorized it. It is, though, completely official; you are our best Invader!."

Again, Gazlene said nothing. Her silence was strained as she glared off to the side, her clawed hand clutched tightly into a fist. Only Red saw the strain, and he knew why Gazlene was acting this way.

"Are you thinking of her again?" He asked gently. Tallest generally didn't speak familiarly with their subjects because the short stature of their minions underwhelmed them and they didn't want to fraternize with those that were beneath them, but in this case, Red was willing to make an exception.

"She wanted me to become an Invader. Told me that I would have the skills for it if I trained. I was shorter back then, and so very confused about why a Tallest would have any interest in me. I feel like I still don't see it; don't know what the interest in me is..."

Red laughed, amused, "Yeah, her Almighty Tallest Miyuki was a bit of an oddball, but her fair rule and advancements knew no bounds. It was, after all, her out-of-the-box thinking that led to the creation of the Irken Armada. Though, I don't mean to imply that she could do no wrong. She wasn't always right; some of the Irkens she mentored grew up as defects, and were not fit enough to invade."

Gazelene's claw clenched so hard that she winced at the pain of it, but the pain didn't diminish the glare she had directed at the ground. "What of the filth that led to her death? He should have defected for what he created."

Purple was very thankful at that moment that Gazlene was not angry at him; the look she was giving the ground was downright hellish...

"No fear there, Gazlene. The Irken was banished to Foodcourtia, far away from here. There he will rot, serving up food to the locals and tourists. I half expected him to gatecrash actually, seeing as he was so, eh, odd... but what does it matter now?." Red shrugged and stared at Gazlene in sympathy, picturing the boiling fury that no doubt flowed through her.

"I'm doing all this for her, you know!" She responded after a long pause of silent glaring.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, she inspired me; she wanted me to do Elite Training, and pushed me really hard. She also effectively adopted me as her protege. That's where I met you guys, I'm sure you remember. Then that stupid defective Irken built that creature, and it went out of control and ate..." Gazlene stopped, shaking slightly in frustration.

"We know. He is stuck cleaning up messy floors and taking part in the Great Foodening. Take comfort in knowing that he will be very miserable for Twenty Foodcourtia years" Red comforted.

Just like that, Gazlene felt better. She sighed, and then, as if the moment never happened, the all mighty fury vanished into the abyss. "So what were we going to discuss about my minion?"

It only seemed a few minutes later that the three were standing in a private garage port reserved for the Tallest themselves (because they liked to feel important). One solitary Spittle Runner was parked.

"We have modified this Spittle Runner to have cloaking technology. It also flies really, really fast. Should you get into any danger, on whatever planet you arrive at, you can disguise it as whatever object you desire. As for your SIR… it's a bit untested at the moment. One of the test drones couldn't be spared for this, so we don't know how smoothly it will function, but we have a very special, modified SIR for you, if you are willing to take it."

"What does it do exactly? How different is this thing?" Gazlene was rather intrigued, and was willing to guinea-pig test the latest design.

"A normal SIR is little more than a robotic minion for you. It has the power of a thermos, and can carry valuables for whatever reason. Normally, one must order out-loud certain orders, and risk exposure of the mission, but scientists have been working on a way to engineer a telepathic bond with their SIR units. Normally, SIR units aren't supposed to be empathetic, and are to be treated only like minions who can do our bidding, but some psychologists believe that if a bond between an Invader and SIR functioned on a telepathic level, it might improve Invader success rate. Minions and Invaders working together and sometimes being able to silently communicate might help in an emergency," Red explained.

"Wow, that was rather long-winded and very explanation-like! That sure was a lot of exposition!" Purple broke the serious mood with his interruption.

Gazlene ignored Purple's contribution entirely and instead thought of her decision carefully. This technology was largely untested and could prove fatal if something malfunctioned, but the Tallest were choosing her to test this latest advancement. If it was successful and she conquered her planet, then all of her race could essentially obtain this gift, and then nothing would stand in their way. With that reasoning, there was only one thing that she could say...

"Okay, I'll do it!"

From there, Red took out a chip from an unknown location and Purple, glad he was contributing, took out the SIR unit, again from a mysterious location.

"This chip integrates with your PAK and rewires your internal organs so that they can process the empathetic bond properly. This is essentially rewiring your entire being so that you can communicate soundlessly with your SIR. If all goes well, you won't explode."

Gazlene rolled her eyes: As if there was a chance of that happening! Most of the scientists working on this weren't defective, and they tested it on shorter Irkens first, so there was virtually no chance of malfunction.

The chip was inserted into her PAK and Gazlene waited for something to happen. She was clueless about the process of rearranging, and wasn't sure what to expect. "Hey, I don't know exactly how..." A sharp, piercing agony shot through her, making her joints freeze up and words die off; she fell completely silent.

' _Make it stop,'_ she screamed internally. ' _Make it stop…'_

Gazlene bit down on her worm-like tongue to keep from calling out, smoke beginning to rise out of her PAK. She could feel her Squeedlyspooch rearranging itself, and her brain sizzled and stretched, seemingly growing bigger, driving sharp spikes of agony through her entire PAK and being.

' _Make it stop, please!'_

After what seemed like an eternity of misery and suffering brought on to torture her, the pain of shifting around finally ceased and she felt her body relax. It was finally over!

"That sucked! I am never going to do that again, but at least it's over. What's next?" She got up to see both Tallest staring, waiting for a report. "Is something supposed to have happened by now?"

"We shall soon see." Red positioned the SIR down on the ground and the little robot transformed so that it stood on two nubs. Its eyes were red, signaling that it was in Duty Mode. The Irken symbol was etched on its face, but it was slightly irregular; Gazlene noticed that the symbol had morphed into the skull-version of the Irken Empire, just like the shape her necklace bore.

' **WELCOME GAZLENE: I AM MiNi. WHAT IS YOUR ORDER MISTRESS?'**

"Holy Irk, I could hear him in my head! Does that mean it was successful then?" She rubbed her head and stared around at the Tallest. "Why is he so formal?"

"Default startup. While you are flying, you can program him to have more of a personality, or don't. It's your choice. There might be some bugs in the system, and major or minor side effects might occur. Keep them in mind for the next time we speak; we'll be expecting a report."

Gazlene rubbed her head in irritation, suddenly bothered by an itchiness on her scalp, but otherwise nodded in acquiescence at the news.

"So the Spittle Runner is programmed and ready?"

Red nodded. "Absolutely. The coordinates of the planet have been uploaded to the ship already, so all you have to do is fly there. Estimated time of arrival is around six months. If no planet is at the arrival point, feel free to conquer the closest thing."

Still woozy and slightly smoking, Gazlene nodded, holding her head in suppressed, leftover agony, and made her painstakingly slow path to the Spittle Runner.

The two Tallest were silent as they watched her stumble her way over. As she stepped within range, the hatch opened, causing her to glance silently at them, but after a few seconds she shrugged and made her way inside, MiNi following silently behind her. They saw her glance at the little robot before he made his way carefully around her and took control of the ship.

"Are you sure she is ready for this technology, which is at such a primitive stage of development?" Purple inquired his co-Tallest.

Red stared after the Runner as it began to lift off from the ground. A small, barely perceptible smirk spread on his face as together they watched the vehicle start to move forward.

"Of course she is! And if not, she will make it work."

Then they blinked and the Spittle Runner carrying Invader Gazlene vanished into the maw of open space.

 **Growing up, I read a ton of fantasy and science fiction novels. Especially the Dragon Riders of Pern. I loved those! This might have bled into the story a bit. Granted, Gazlene and MiNi aren't connected quite like those dragons, but it is similar. I adore empathetic and telepathic bonds so I just had to sneak them in. I had so much fun writing Zim's bit. I took full advantage of the world and the joke. But if Dib has Zim, then what about Irken Zim? I'm not telling.**


End file.
